


belated

by sinceraly



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Also uh? T for cursing, Angst, Anxiety, Especially for something like this it's not that easy, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Its 3am as I post this rip, Jeremy fucked up real bad and no one really makes him earn forgiveness, Like Michael is great and best friends can make up but, Lots of Crying, The Squip is mentioned but not really part of the thing, can be read as platonic or romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 19:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11447505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinceraly/pseuds/sinceraly
Summary: In which Jeremy finally apologizes to Michael, because he didn't actually do it in the play.





	belated

With all that had happened since Jeremy had last played the video game with Michael, you'd think they would have passed level 9 of Apocalypse of the Dead. You'd be wrong. 

You'd also think that the two best friends would've been back to business as usual, but you'd also be wrong. Even with the Squip mostly gone, with Jeremy having been released from the hospital, and with them (mostly Michael, really,) having saved the school, something was off. And Jeremy knew that whatever was stopping them from moving on would be addressed sooner or later.

Or sooner, judging from how Michael, having been nearly silent through their video game playing, pauses the game and carelessly tosses the controller onto the table. Jeremy shifts in his chair, looking at Michael with what he hopes is concern. Or not, really. It's harder to control his features now more than ever without the Squip to dictate.

Michael looks. Frustrated, to say the least. He looks frustrated, but also disappointed. And maybe sad, too. Jeremy feels guilty about the fact that he can't read his best friend as well as he used to, but chalks it up to just some side effects of not having the Squip anymore.

Obviously, he's wrong.

“You-” Michael stops, takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. Jeremy vaguely recognizes it as Michael’s tell of a headache. Michael opens his mouth again, “you still haven't apologized.”

“For wha-” Jeremy starts, mentally going through his catalog of events that included Michael that happened in the past two weeks. Getting released from the hospital, saving the school… oh.

_Oh._

_Fuck._

“Shit,” starts Jeremy, “damn me, I’m so sorry Michael. I'm so sorry, believe me.” He looks at Michael, who’s staring at the hardwood floor of Jeremy’s basement like it's the most interesting thing in the world.

Michael is silent for a bit more, before he mumbles something.

“What was that man?”

“And what if I don't?” Michael repeats, louder. Jeremy stops from reaching for his PS4 controller and looks at Michael as if he just shocked him.

“Wha-What do you mean?” Michael looks up at Jeremy with the blankest look Jeremy has ever seen on his face. His glasses remain in his hands, but Jeremy can hear the legs clacking as Michael’s hands tremble. His entire body is quaking slightly, his tell for anxiety

“What if I don't believe you, Jeremy? What if I don't forgive you right now? What if I don't think you deserve it?” 

“Well-” this time, it's Jeremy that stops. The pause lasts a few seconds before his licks his lips and tries again, “well, can you tell me why you won't forgive me?”

“Oh my god, do I have to spell it out for you, dude? I know you're smarter than this.”

“Well what do you want me to say, man? That I will never do it again? You know I won't, it was the Squip that kept telling me to be an asshole-”

 _“It was off!”_ shouts Michael. He puts his hand over his mouth, breathing heavy and shaking hard. “It was _off,”_ he repeats, softer. He wraps himself into his jacket, looking like he's trying to sink into the beanbag.

Jeremy hesitates, before asking, gently, “how'd… how'd you know?”

“Don't you remember? You told me! You told me that it was off. Before I warned you. Before you rejected me." 

Jeremy curses himself, Michael’s sensory skills, and the Squip all at once before forgetting the last two and solely focusing on the first one. "No, I don't remember a lot of when I had the Squip in. It's all fuzzy," he says, like it makes it better when he _does_ remember pushing Michael away. Better than most other things, anyways. He was stupid to think that he was going to get off scot free. He sits forward in his beanbag, now staring at his flooring, like Michael had been doing a minute ago.

“Just,” Michael’s voice is so soft that Jeremy is even hearing him. He looks to his left, at Michael, who’s chest is still rising and lowering at a fast pace, who’s hands are still shaking, who's looking like he’s close to tears. Jeremy wishes it would sink in. Jeremy wishes he felt much of anything other than sadness, anger, bitterness, and self-hatred since the Squip. Jeremy wishes.

He wishes for before.

He wishes for before, when he and Michael would play video games together, Player 1 and Player 2, an inseparable team. He wishes for before, when he ranted about school and Rich and how his father wouldn't wear pants. He wishes for before he opened his fucking mouth and took the goddamn pill from Japan, the one that left his brain in a haze, the one that had him questioning his voice from those of the fucking Keanu Reeves lookalike.

He realizes at some point that it will get better. But as he's shown before, he’s always too impatient to wait. 

_Dude I know, I get it but - but we’re not in college._

_You gotta help me conquer it._

God, he’s such an _asshole,_ even without the Squip.

“Jeremy?”

He snaps his head up, focusing back on Michael, on his link to the real world. On the only person who always supported him and simultaneously the one who he always ended up hurting.

“I’m sorry, Michael. I spaced.”

“It’s-” Michael stops abruptly, exhaling air loudly through his nose before he picks up again, shoulders tensing, “-no. No it's not okay. This is what I mean. Answer my question. Did you feel guilt when you called me a-” he breaks off. A tear leaks from his eye, and Jeremy can tell from how Michael is balling his still shaking fists that he is trying desperately to keep composed. 

Still, the question rings in the air, suffocating them. Even though they're inches away from each other, Jeremy has never felt farther away from his best friend. He wonders if this is what Michael felt like when Jeremy was ignoring him.

No, not ignoring. Avoiding. Forgetting. Abandoning.

God, he was such an asshole.

But. Did he feel guilty? At the time, at least?

“No.”

Michael gives a breathy laugh, tears finally flowing down his cheeks. He’s not sobbing, but it's obvious that hearing the answer broke the dam. “God. I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

“But,” Jeremy starts, and he can feel his Adams apple bob with how hard he swallows. “But, I do now.”  
Michael laughs again, this time more cynical than the last, “yeah, after two weeks and my prompting.”

Jeremy winces, “Michael please, let me explain-”

“Explain _what,_ Jeremy?!” Michael shouts, standing up suddenly and shoving his fists into his jacket pockets, “Why you left me? That you abandoned me? That twelve years of friendship meant nothing to you in the one moment you could prove it did? That when I went out of my way to help you you rejected me?! Save it!” His voice breaks and he runs his hand through his hair, almost stomping as he tries to keep from breaking.

Jeremy stands and takes a step towards him. Michael steps back. Jeremy ignores how much it hurts.

“How can you even attempt to fix this?” Michael whispers. “You left me. You didn't even attempt to keep your promise. You left me alone and you would've kept it up. That's the worst part.”

Michael looks directly at Jeremy. His eyes are shimmering, tears still running down his cheeks, and his face is red. He's still Michael, though. He's still Jeremy’s link to the world. He’s still the most important person in the planet to him.

“If your Squip hadn’t gone evil, would you even have thought about me? Would you have apologized? Or would you still have gone on with life. Would you still be abandoning me right now?”

Jeremy… Jeremy has no clue. Before the play, before he noticed what the Squip was doing… had he even thought about what he said to Michael?

It’s quiet in the room for minutes before Michael gives up and grabs his backpack. The match to Jeremy’s. The “riend” to Jeremy’s “boyf” never seemed so clear. 

Michael looks at Jeremy one more time, shrugging his backpack onto his shoulder. 

“I know the Squip messed you up. I know you're not completely to blame. But what happened to me… that wasn't the Squip. It was you. And I don't know if… I don't know if I can trust you again. Not like that. When you’re… you, again, you know where to find me.” 

Jeremy watches as Michael disappears up the basement stairs. It's a sight that scares him to his core – he’s losing him. He’s losing him and he doesn't have much time left. Immediately his mind clears, his haze gone, and he feels the desperation pierce his heart. Fuck this detachment. Fuck this cool exterior. Fuck the “chillness” programmed into him by the Squip, Michael is leaving him.

“Michael!” Jeremy yells, running up the stairs and following him through the house. Jeremy catches up to him in the driveway and grabs his hand, ignoring the sting of rejection he gets when Michael pulls away, looking at him like he lost his mind.

“Michael please,” Jeremy breathes, desperately “please just – just let me say my piece. And if you never want to see me again that’s–that’s fine too.”

Michael doesn't say anything, just shoves his hands back into his jacket pockets, his outward body language showing nothing more than boredom, except that with the haze cleared from his mind, Jeremy can see the anxiousness in the lines on his forehead, in the way his shoulders are tense. He can still see the buildup of tears in his eyes.

_This is it. This is the moment that counts. Don't fuck this one up._

Taking a deep breath, Jeremy starts. “You didn't deserve it. Any of it. You didn’t deserve me being an asshole just because of some stupid fucking inferiority complex. You didn't deserve me being terrible when you were just looking out for me. You didn't -” when did his nose start running? When did he start crying? “You didn't deserve it. Like how I don't deserve you. I don’t. I don't deserve you, Michael, I don't deserve how you went out of your way to save me, I don't deserve how even when I had treated you like garbage you came to see me, I don't deserve you visiting me in the hospital, I don't deserve twelve years of friendship, I don't deserve to be friends with someone who I threw away the moment I had a chance to become popular in fucking high school, like it was the holy Grail of success. I don’t-”

He looks directly into Michael’s eyes, taking a step forward. He mentally celebrates when Michael doesn't take a step back this time.

“I don't deserve you, Michael. I never did and I never will. But, you're still my favorite person. And that will never change.”

Michael is silent for a few moments of heart pounding, anxiety riddled silence. Then:

“Is it true I’m your favowite person?”

Jeremy looks at him, a look of shock written on his face. Michael laughs softly.

“I fucking hate how I can't be mad at you for too long, you ass–”

Suddenly, he's being tackled onto the grass of the driveway in a hug, noodle arms being locking around his waist in a hug. He lands with an “oomph!” glasses askew.

“Michael I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, god I'm such an asshole and I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, I’ll never do it again, you're so important to me,-”

“Dude, shut the fuck up. Mrs. Petunia is looking this way and I'm pretty sure if she sees you whispering into my neck as we’re hugging she's going to call the Homo Police on us.”

“You have a damn Pride flag patch on your jacket.”

“Shh, details.”

Jeremy laughs again, before rolling into his back and getting off of Michael’s crushed form. Michael sighs as they stare at the blue New Jersey sky.

“Y’know we still have to discuss some stuff,” he says.

“I know,” Jeremy replies immediately.

“I won't trust you for a while.”

“I know.”

“You really fucked me up.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“But.”

“But?”

“I'm too fucking tired. Let's go inside. I wanna nap.”

And so they do. Jeremy hogs blankets and Michael hogs beds but they nap together and wake up together, poking fun at each other's messed up hair and sharing a water bottle when drinking down Aleve to fix their headaches. It's not the same. It won't be for a little while. But Jeremy is just happy to have Michael back, just happy that he realized over his own pit of despair that losing Michael would break him. Just happy that he gets to face the world with his best friend at his side.

Later that night, they finally beat level 9.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so. Let's do this.
> 
> First things first, I wrote this on my phone so typos will have happened. Also, I didn't get one of my friends to beta so. Well
> 
> Two, it's 3am as I post this and I wanna go the fuck to sleep so in general if you have questions about how they interacted or whatever just like. Drop a comment and I'll get to it whenever.
> 
> Three, I don't really write often and this was more of a spurt of inspiration so sequel? Probably not.
> 
> Alright bye


End file.
